Infatuation
by MariskaMania
Summary: Take a look at a case through someone else's eyes. Can you befriend a serial killer? Meet Luke Maynard, the New York Choker, AKA NYC. Let Luke take you on a journey of Love, Lust, Hate and betrayal... Can you keep up with a serial killer? Get inside a criminal's mind & decide for yourself. E/O - please review.
1. Sing sing

**A/N: SVU does not belong to me, none of the characters belong to me. This story does, and so do the characters who I have created. This story is different from my usual stories, the way I'm writing this will become apparent. There will be E/O – I hope you enjoy this, and please review, as always they keep me motivated, and I love reading them and hearing what you think.**

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Let me take you back five years. Let me take you on a journey of love, lust and betrayal. Five years ago, my life _really_ began. I was a normal teenager, I went to school, had friends, went on dates. I was normal. My dad died when I was three, he was a military man. My hero. My mom was a whore. A drunken, lying whore. The days she was lucid were few and far between.

My story begins on January tenth, two thousand and seven.

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It was a bright day, the clouds were thin and wispy; they drifted over the cities skyscrapers lightly. Reminded me of my vacation to Italy. The sun beamed down on me as I walked the twelve blocks home from school. Jason and Lee had parted my side as their streets appeared. I remember putting the key in the lock to my front door and twisting it. I heard the clunk as the door unlocked. I knew not to stay downstairs as the last of mom's clients would still be here. Well, day clients that is.

I walked up the stairs and into my room, slung my bag down and crossed my fingers as I booted up my Windows 97. It started. I gave it ten minutes to settle and prepare itself for use whilst I did the small amount of Math homework I had.

Time passed, the small amount of Math tumbled into a time wasting couple of hours, and soon it was eight minutes passed seven. I decided it was safe to go downstairs on the hunt for food. I rifled through the refrigerator like a lion on the hunt for prey. I picked mold off of two slices of bread, spread peanut butter, then the minuscule amount of jelly.

My mom appeared in the kitchen. Her teeth were rotting, her cheeks had sunken in and were grey. Meth was her latest adventure. She stood wearing nothing but the grey baby doll she'd bought years ago, the lace was ripped and almost blackened with use. Her stockings were torn with ladders climbing up the legs and her toes yellowing.

"You're high." I said.

"Don't judge me! What I do, I do for us. To keep food on the table. I might as well enjoy it."

The meth gave her 'out of this world' orgasms. What she meant was, she's going to get high, fuck a load of men and gave their egos a massive boost when she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Why don't you use dad's life insurance money?" I asked. She stumbled for words, I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or if she was dumbfounded, I guessed both.

"That's your college money!"

Good answer, "Have you got life insurance?"

"Of course I have." she retorted.

"I take it they don't know you're a cracked up whore?" I asked rhetorically.

She glared at me, I cracked a smile, I swear she was about to swing for me when a John knocked at the door.

"Get upstairs."

"Already gone." I replied.

I finished my sandwich, threw the crusts in the trash can and began my quest into the deep dark world of Line of Duty, Masters edition. Less than ten minutes into the battle, the '_Oh God's_' '_Don't stops_' and high pitched "_Yes's_' broke my concentration.

_Methgasm_.

My mom didn't stop for almost two hours. I heard a few '_Fucks_' and a '_Harder_' or two. I heard the John grunt as he came. A minute later, the shower started. Ten minutes after that, he was gone. She was still riding the Meth train, a buzzing followed by loud moans meant only one thing. Vibrator.

Two more men came and went, probably home to their wives.

My good old 97 kicked the bucket that night. I fell asleep, drifted off against the sounds of my mom and her vibrator. Woke up the next day, went to school. It wasn't unusual for me not to see my mom in the mornings, sleeping off her whoregasm. After a night on Meth, I was _lucky_ to see her at all_. _That was until she was ready to drag her sagging ass out of bed and actually do something with her day.

So I went to school, came home, repeated my whole night before, only this time, I didn't see or hear my mom. I guess the Meth well was dry tonight.

The next morning, I woke up. Nothing had changed from the two nights ago. The jelly jar was still in the trash, the trash can was full and was stinking.

"Mom." I called out. Silence. "MOM!" I shouted louder this time. "The trash stinks. What is wrong with you?" I sighed, "Stupid whore." I said under my breath.

I took the trash out, tried finding some clean socks in the mountain of dirty, soiled clothes. "I'm taking the laundry out, you chucking in the bed sheets or not?"

No answer, I swear to God she was ignoring me. Clearly exhausted after her low night last night. Tired of waiting for her reply I swung open the door to her whore hunt, and there she was. A picture of pure relief rolled over me. She was dead. So beautiful in death. A beauty I could not describe, her face was white, not a single colour touched her face. Just the pin prick blue eyes that looked at me, looked through me. She was cold to touch, like snow white, her black hair, pale face. She was a fairytale of deathly beauty.

I called nine-one-one, they sent the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She had glossy chocolate brown hair that sat just below her shoulders, and the most amazing melting eyes. Her name was Olivia Benson. She came with a jackass partner. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he thought I'd done it. Like I'd kill that whore. In all fairness, through her shit clientele, she did get money. Even though most of it she spent on Meth, she did provide the cash for food.

He asked me all sorts of questions, where was I? What time? So on and so forth, but I couldn't answer, because I didn't know when she'd died. For all I knew she could have been dead for two days, or two minutes before I walked in.

"Sweetheart, come with us, I'll take you to the station, take your statement and find you somewhere to stay for the night."

Olivia smiled at me, her eyes twinkled with a motherly concern I had never seen before, but it still tingled down my spine, and I still knew what it was. She put her gentle warm hand on my shoulder and lead me out of hell and into the warmth of her Crown Vic. She took a drive a few blocks to what she called, '_The House_'. The one-six was a brown walled, cold looking room. Desks sat a metre and a half apart, solid desks sat with paper piled high. This was another case they didn't need. She took me into a small room, took my statement and prepared a bed in the crib. I sat drinking Cola. She asked me why I seemed cold, why my mom's death didn't bother me.

I told her it did, but she was a whore, a drunken whore.

"It's not that I don't care, it's just that, I've taken care of myself for years. She brings home different men every night, the last year, she had a list. The men on the list came to my house, there were loads during the day when I was at school. Then more when I got home. I stayed out of the way. I don't know how many men there were."

"Do you remember the last time you saw your mother?" the detective asked me.

"A couple days ago," I told her, "Her latest obsession was Meth, she'd ride the roller coaster, it's how she got through sleeping with all those men."

Olivia looked at me as if I were her son who had just suffered the biggest loss of my life. The truth is, I gained. It was the best day of my life, because I was in love. Olivia Benson, one true love of my heart.

From that day on, I devoted my life to Olivia Benson. I followed her everywhere, took photos, sent her flowers on the odd occasion. I even put roses on her mother's grave. I did everything I could. I watched from a distance, then he went and changed everything.

Stole Olivia from me, right from under my feet. So I fought back. No longer did I watch from a distance. I knew how to get Olivia back in my life.

_My name is Luke Maynard. Cell block C. Sing Sing Prison. If you've read the papers you'll refer to me as the New York Choker. But you can call me NYC._

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**A/N: Can you befriend a serial killer? If he killed because he loved, could you open your mind and understand? Follow Luke into the past five years, and see if it's really possible to befriend a killer. Please review, this is the first story I've written in the first person, and the first story I've written it from the point of view of the bad guy. I'm looking forward to knowing what you think. **

**Beth xo**


	2. Stakeout

**A/N: Thank you for reviewing chapter one. I'm pleased you've liked the style of this story, all my fears/concerns have gone. I am very grateful to you for taking the time to review. I apologise for the time it took to update, some of you may know, I took a week away for my birthday, then my partner / beta has been in hospital and the visiting hours are crazy stupid, so I've had little time to even think, let alone write. Thank you for being patient and bearing with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please spare a minute to post a review. Many thanks – Beth. **

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I found myself being unraveled at the hands of Olivia Benson. For years, the only role model I had was my mother, the doped up slag; so, you can imagine how I felt seeing this strong, beautiful woman working a real job, making a difference and earning money from a real profession.

I was in love. Love at first sight makes no sense, because love is blind. And if you look for love, you'll never find it, because you fall in love. If you're looking, it's hard to fall. Are you keeping up with me?

Anyway, Olivia Benson was the total package my life had been waiting for. I know what you're thinking, how can a rapist like me be in love? Let me tell you.

The months before my mom died, I wanted to become a surgeon, I had medical books, studied ferociously in biology and in my spare time dissected frogs and roadkill. I know what you were thinking then, it all starts with animal abuse, but I didn't. I never killed any living creature. Not until last year anyway. I had a plan for my life, my plan was to succeed, not end up here in this six by six.

My point is, I was in absolute awe of Olivia, she was perfect, hell, she still is. Once my mom's case had been dead and buried, so was I effectively. Olivia forgot all about me, she went on to the next case and then she did the unthinkable. She married Elliot Stabler, that prick who accused me of killing my own mother. Then, he knocked her up.

I loved Olivia so much, I knew there was only one way to get back in her life, I couldn't just sit back and watch her anymore, I needed contact, I needed her attention. And I knew how to get it. I started raping and killing women in New York. Trust me, this wasn't my first choice, I tried calling her, I wrote to her, I got an apologetic letter back, she never returned my calls; so when I saw her in the street and she looked straight through me, she didn't even recognise me, I flipped. I lost my temper, I knew then there was only one way back in her life. She had broken her promise to me, now I wanted to remind her of that promise, and that, I did.

The night my mom died I sat with Olivia for hours, she listened to me. I knew she was trying to figure me out, and as much as I wanted to tell her everything, I wanted her to work harder. I wanted her to prove she cared about me, enough to spend time with me, enough to sit with me for hours and drag it out of me.

"Are you hungry Luke?" she asked me, her plump lips captivated me.

I shook my head, "No, I'm okay thanks." '_I hunger for your kiss_' I thought to myself. Olivia wasn't like the female teachers at my school, they were all either short and fat, or tall and fat. None of them cared about me, they spoke their educational babble at me, went home and forgot all about me. I didn't care, none of them meant anything to me.

"How about a soda? I know you're in shock, but you have to eat something." she was so sweet, so caring. She saw so many bad things in the world, so much bad in people, and yet she was quite possibly the most innocent thing I'd ever seen.

I nodded, "What is there to eat around here?" I asked giving in to her smile.

"Anything you want." she replied softly.

I grinned, we ended up with fries and a massive burger. She made a comment about me not eating, I told her I was lucky with mouldy bread and peanut butter at home, so this was a mountain of a treat. She smiled, I knew she felt pain for me, she felt sorry for me.

I didn't want her pity, I wanted her.

When we'd finished eating, she took me in to see a guy name Cragen, the captain. He was bald, looked like he once had muscles that now wobbled when he walked. He had eyes like brown pebbles, they didn't show any emotion when he spoke or listened.

"I've got him a placement in foster care for the night, Wendy and David Peters."

Those words shot through me, I hadn't even consciously thought it, but for obvious reasons, I was disappointed I wasn't going to Olivia's house. I imagined it to be a small homely cottage, or a beautiful proud Victorian town house.

I later found out it was neither, it was a crappy little apartment in a crappy rundown building. It's a cop life alright!

As I was saying, the look of disappointment must have been slapped across my face because Olivia looked at me and gave me a small smile. I understood, she was a cop, I was a kid in a case. What she didn't know was, I wasn't prepared to be closed like a case, I was a person with feelings, I was hurting, and not because my mom was dead, but because Olivia didn't think of me as anything other than a number. A folder on her desk. A witness. Evidence. I was there for her benefit.

I wasn't a crier, I'm still not. Kick me in the balls, stab me in the back, shank me, I won't cry. But hot tears fell down my cheeks when reality kicked me in the teeth. I let Olivia take me to that home, although I didn't stay long. The Peters' were slightly... dim. Sweet old couple, married since they were teenagers, citizens that would humiliate any teen from this damn generation. Full of morals, full of generosity, full of kindness and love to fill a stadium. A car with a tank full of gas.

I memorized the license plate of the Crown Vic, I knew it was a long shot, but at ten when I knew the Peters' were asleep; I took the keys off the handmade, wooden key holder nailed to the wall and drove to the station. I doubted Olivia would still be there, but knowing she worked there was enough to keep me on my own stakeout.

To my shock, thirty minutes later, a tired looking Olivia walked out, down the steps, got in her car and drove home.

For a detective, she wasn't very observant. I put it down to the tiredness. I followed her for a few blocks, when she parked up I drove passed her and parked up further down the road. I watched her go in her apartment building.

I decided the only thing to do would be to climb the fire escape of the opposite building and watch her. Can you blame me? She's hot! She's a MILF, minus the M. CILF? Cop I'd like to fuck. That works.

So I found myself sitting in the dark, the shadows of the night giving me enough shelter from detection, I saw her throw her jacket on the back of the couch. She put her hair up, I wished I could smell her skin, I bet she smelt great. I saw her pull off her shirt and pants, she grabbed her dressing gown and snuggled into it. I have to admit, I was disappointed I didn't get to see her naked; but as she relaxed on the couch, feet up, I imagined what it would be like, to make love to her.

I imagined it like this.

I'd massage her shoulders, they'd be tense due to her work. The more she relaxed, the braver I became. I'd move her hair to one side and gently kiss her neck, I'd see her shiver with anticipation, slowly I'd slip the dressing gown from her shoulders, we'd both stand, our lips would meet and we'd kiss passionately. There would be fumbling and grabbing moments, like the end of the world was about to happen. The intensity would be insane, and then. Well, do I really have to tell you? Somethings I'd like to keep for myself. It's not like I have a lot of anything anymore.

Naturally, being a kid, I had a hard on that needed seeing to. I'd never blown a load over anyone before. Fuck, I'd never had a hard on before then. It's hard to think about sex when you're mom is a raging slut.

It was the best feeling in the world, like orgasmic fireworks shooting from my cock. I panted so deep, and got so light headed from the whole ordeal I nearly fell off the fire escape. I don't blame you for cracking a smile, I do when I think back, but back then I almost crapped myself.

I went back to the old people that night, I slept in their house that smelt like an old people's home, the dusky smell of old. It wasn't something I could get used to.

At six the following morning they woke me up, told me to eat my toast and drink my OJ. Like I was bothered about food. I wanted to see Olivia.

"Eat up dear. It's going to be a long day." the woman crowed at me.

I smiled nervously, I think I freaked her out, because as soon as Olivia picked me up, I never went back. I wonder what happened to them. I bet they're not surprised I'm in here. I heard Cragen telling Olivia, the woman didn't want me back in her house, she got a devil feeling from me. I didn't do anything to them, but you can't blame old folk for their wives tales and weird suspicions. They're all loopy, I'm pretty sure as soon as you hit sixty, not only does your body go south, but your brain shuts down bit by bit. Everyday you lose a little more sanity. Death waits patiently for all of us y'see, sometimes he jumps the gun and takes people too soon, but it's his job. Haven't you ever done something too soon and regretted it?

I tried something when Olivia picked me up, when we got in the car I burst into tears. I didn't say anything, hell I knew why I was crying, but she didn't. I just wanted Olivia to hold me, to comfort me. I wanted to feel loved. I was confused, half of me wanted a mother in her, the other half wanted to be loved by her in a way only a relationship could satisfy.

That's when I asked her, I said, "Olivia, I love you. Will you marry me one day?"

She smiled at me like I was a kid who'd just mistaken the context of a word for another similar. "My first proposal." she joked. I was pissed, this wasn't a joke.

"I'll buy you a ring." I blurted.

She ruffled my hair, "When you're thirty, I'll marry you."

"Promise?"

"I promise." she said, bonding us for life.

It's a real shame she didn't keep that promise. I was gutted when she married that Elliot bloke. It felt like my heart had been ripped out and shown to me on a silver platter, then someone had force fed it to me like an invalid.

See, I didn't kill because I'm sick in the head like the other freaks in here. I killed for love. I killed because the only woman who made me feel anything chose another man and broke my heart. Can you understand that? That my intensions were only to recapture the attention of Olivia, not to hurt anyone...

The point I have been making is this, when Olivia closed me out of her life, I tried everything to get her back, and when none of that worked, I knew the only thing I could do was get her working on my case. Not my mother's case, but mine. So I started raping and choking women. I made sure she would never forget me again. Not this time.

But know this my friends, I never, and will never hurt Olivia. I love her you see.

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**A/N: Thank you all for reading, I hope this is still captivating you. I love knowing what you think, like I said before, I have never written in the first person before, and getting inside the mind of a criminal has been harder to write than I previously thought, but I'm not giving up. If you have a minute, please review, you can review logged in, or as a guest. Many thanks xo**


	3. Spy games

**A/N: Thanks for reading, again, I want to thank everyone who is reviewing. I love reading them all, I'm glad you're all enjoying Infatuation. Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been so preoccupied with life lately. I will be back on track shortly. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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I keep asking myself why you keep coming back here. Then I thought to myself, you guys all love Olivia too. In some way, she has touched your heart, and you need to know what happened. You need clarification, just the same as I did! See, we all need something from someone.

I felt Olivia's concern for me growing, sometimes I'd burst into tears uncontrollably just to be held by her, other times I'd just watch as she worked.

My school didn't want me there, they thought I'd corrupt the kids with my tales of death and disfigurement. Truth be told, I don't care for stories, I just like talking about Olivia.

Olivia let me sit at a desk she'd made up for me, it was a small table, like one you'd eat a TV dinner on. She gave me a small pad of paper, a pen, an NYPD manilla folder and a portable DVD player to act as entertainment. I used to pretend I was a detective working a case and the DVD player was my cop laptop filled with secrets and data bases that could blow your mind if you even looked at it. It was all in my head, but as I walked around corners and throughout the building I'd be scoping out the bad guy with my eyes. The game felt even more real when I had my earphones in and music blasted through them drowning out everyone around me.

"What are you thinking?" Olivia asked me in jest as she ruffled my hair.

I smiled shyly, obviously embarrassed I'd be caught playing _Spy the mega cop in a movie with my music on. _I don't care what you guys say, everyone, at one point in their life has imagined being a cop or a spy and felt like they've been in a movie when music is their only companion.

"Just playing a game." I answered honestly.

"Cops and robbers?" Olivia asked me.

I shook my head in the negative, "Nope, more like cops and spies." I laughed, she laughed. It was beautiful.

"Ah, I see. Room for one more?" she asked pulling both hands up in a Charlie's Angel's pose. Her fingers intertwined from the pinky to the ring finger, then the rest standing proudly like a gun.

I smiled, "Sure, you want to see my case? It's all on my desk." I was proud of the case I'd come up with and Olivia smiled at me.

"Lead the way detective Maynard."

I spent hours working on that case, and Olivia breezed through it, then looked at me as if I'd chopped off an infants head and shown it to her. "Luke, where did you get this idea?" she asked me, now more concerned than I'd ever seen her.

"I just, thought of it." I told her, again, more honest than I should have been.

I felt totally pissed at Olivia for two days after that day. I found myself being picked up and taken to a Psych evaluation. Olivia thought I was nuts. I told the man in there, a short, fat man of forty something, I got the idea from a book I'd read. I couldn't remember the name of the book, but it was a real life story. A real life crime.

"It's just something I read, I turned it into a game." I said to him.

He nodded a couple times. "Right-o. And you play this game a lot?"

"No. It's not everyday I'm in a police station. It was just a game, I was bored."

"And you asked detective Benson to play with you?"

"No, she asked to play with me."

He was skeptical, his fat wobbled as he got up and looked out of his window dramatically, like there was a rolling camera behind him. He turned his head and gave me a crooked smile.

"Son, I see nothing wrong with you. You can go home."

Home? So Olivia sends me to this man who is clearly crap, he has no idea that I have no home and apparently I'm fine! I should write to him and tell him where I ended up, he should get fired for being so shit.

I have a theory, _Home is where the heart is, so home is never in one place. If your heart belongs to someone else, your heart is in their hands, you love them and completely give yourself to them; is it your fault when they break your heart? When they leave you shattered and broken? If it's all their doing?_

This is what I'd like you to understand about me folks, that I am _not _sadistic, I'm not a head fuck or have a screw loose. I am a victim of a broken heart, a man who will do anything he can to be loved by the woman who made me lose my mind. And yet, because of my actions, I'm the one that's stuck in here.

I'm not sick, or ruined or any of those things people keep saying about me. I have a heart. A broken one, but it's still there.

Someone once said, "'_Pain lasts longer if you're alive to feel it._'" Beth someone or other was her name. It kinda seems obvious, that of course if you're alive, you can feel pain; but think about it, she's got a point. The most sadistic, messed up murderers and rapists and God only knows who else sit locked in this building with me, some killed because they don't want witnesses, others because that's their thing and they enjoy killing. Me, now I am the exception, I killed because I _didn't want_ these women to suffer a life time of pain. I made sure they wouldn't be around to hurt for the rest of their lives, to never trust mankind again. To never feel broken hearted, like me.

The way I see it, is this, life is like a pane of glass, once shattered or broken it's impossible to fix so it's perfect again. That's why I killed those women, because I'm not a sicko!

It's not like I killed somebody's. I killed nobody's. I made sure the women I killed had no family, no one to cry over them, no one who loves them. I made sure they were women who would not be missed, see I do have a heart, and yes, technically, I'm premeditated; but I thought very carefully about my Godly actions. Only thing is, so did Olivia.

She must have had some concerns that ran a lot deeper than I could ever have imagined, it's how I was caught. After Olivia read my cops and spies case file, she knew there was something dark in me, and always being a cop first, put my DNA on the data base. It could have been anything, the soda cans, the gum I chewed. Anything, and I had no idea.

Olivia seemed off with me for a few days, the fact the shrink said I was fine didn't seem to matter to her. She didn't play any kind of games with me, she spoke to me matter of factly, and when someone did speak to me, it was Elliot.

I felt horrible, like a game I'd created to have some fun, completely destroyed the relationship I had once had with Olivia.

The game was this, there was a female spy, she was much older than me. She had been kidnapped, tortured and raped, it was my job to save the day. To figure it all out, to be the hero for once, instead of a whore's son, the victim of loss. I don't like to think Olivia feared me, but I think she feared what I was capable of. And indeed she should have been.

I found Olivia in the crib, she was silently sleeping, her chest moving up down so gracefully. She was beautiful. I stood in the doorway, I wanted so much to speak to her, but I couldn't. I knew she'd freak out, just the thought of me being by her side when she awoke probably scared the shit out of her, so I slipped a small folded piece of paper from my pocket and put it in her right shoe.

'_Dearest Olivia._

_I know what you think of me, and as much as it pains me, I know I shouldn't be in your life right now. It hurts to think you hate me, or you're scared of my mind. You have no need to be frightened. You can drop the case regarding my mother. Heck, if it helps, just tell everyone I did it. Then you can put this all behind you and forget all about me._

_Anyway Olivia, I hope you have a great life._

_See you around._

_Luke._'

I left the one – six that day at five in the evening, and didn't return until I was brought in for questioning a few months ago. I had, by then already devised a plan.

I knew what I was going to do, I knew when, and mostly I had thought about the where too! I had everything mapped out in my brain. I smiled softly to myself when I realised just how smart I really was.

I was plagued by thoughts of Olivia Benson, and how much I wished I could see her. That night I made my way back to the fire escape and watched Olivia for three hours. I wished I could hear her, what she was talking about, and who she was talking to.

I wish I could smell her skin, look into her eyes, I wish never got me anywhere before. I knew what I had to do.

Wishing I would stop being a nobody never got me anywhere, it's me who changed my life, it's me who became a somebody. It's all me and it's always been me.

Be sure to come back soon and I'll tell you more of my tale.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and as always if you have a spare couple of minutes, please review. I appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter, and I hope you come back for the fourth. **

**Beth xo**


	4. Stalker

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, as always, I enjoy reading them and appreciate them all. The feedback is great and helps the progression of my writing. I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it. **

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I see you're back again. Can't keep away can you? It's me, I'm the star of this story, but my biggest guess is, you want to know what I did to Olivia Benson; how I remained in her life oh so secretly. Well, it's your lucky day, because I feel like sharing another snippet of my story.

I spent a night at Olivia's fire escape, I smiled when she took out my letter; '_Dearest Olivia_.'. She couldn't help herself, I was the one person who'd really haunt her, for now at least, I was a memory, the boy that got away. I was most likely a creepy reminder of a case that was desperate to go cold.

Anyway, I'm losing track of myself here, so after my night on the fire escape I found a someone named Buzz. Not Lightyear, he was called Buzz because he was always buzzed off his face on drugs. Buzz took me to his pad, I ran drugs for him, and pawned anything he could make money from. In turn, he put a roof over my head, and fed me. I used my wages to buy books on forensic anthropology, biology, and even a couple of medical surgical books. It was all part of my plan; for a kid, I earned over three hundred dollars a week, which is more than most people's first jobs. Who am I kidding, I kicked ass getting that job, I know people who earn less than that in a month.

I saved up my money and found a little apartment, it was shit. The inside smelt like the old people who lived there before me, and the pungent smell of Chinese food creeped up through the floorboards and sickened me daily, but it was home. The only place I could call home.

On my day off, April eighteenth, I ventured to my old house. The place was still a shit hole, only now it was boarded up, old police tape and crime scene tape flapped in the wind. The red tape that warned off potential burglars was still unbroken, or sealed however you want to put it. One swift kick of the door swung the pointless piece of wood straight in. It was weird going back there, everything was still in it's place, nothing seemed out of place. Dishes were still piled high in the sink, garbage bags were still where I'd dropped them the day I'd found my mother. I trotted up the stairs almost with a feeling of happiness in me. Strange, as I was never happy in this God forsaken house. I kicked open my bedroom door, my room was the only room that looked like a bomb had hit it. Clearly the time I'd spent working, Olivia and Elliot and whoever else, had torn my room apart. Then I saw it. A square of dustless desk; my good old '97 was gone. I smirked remembering how it had died, it had gone to heaven the day my scum of a mom went to hell.

I had a feeling the house would be watched, it seemed pretty obvious after my letter that Olivia would want to talk to me, other than the John's, I was the only other suspect. I packed up my clothes, some of my old junk and slung it carelessly into a garbage bag. I stripped the room of me, there was nothing to say I even existed in that house after I'd been there. I was like a tornado that day, ripping everything, tossing all of my worthless shit around the room and finally, I became the clean up team. I pulled up the carpet in the right corner of the room, I pulled until I got to the middle of the room, then slammed my foot down hard on a very specific floorboard. I caught it as it flew into the air, a trick I'd learned years ago; I chucked it, I wasn't here for destruction, I'd come for something very important. I'd found it only minutes after I'd first set eyes on Olivia. I knew she'd want it, I knew it would help make and or break the case, but she'd have to come to me for it. My mom's little black book.

I knew they were watching me, the NYPD failed with their surveillance, a black camera, no wires attached sat buried in my desk. I flashed the camera a smile before speaking only one sentence.

"Catch me if you can."

Looking back it was the most stupid thing to say, I implemented myself as guilty in five words. Back then I wasn't bothered, I was pissed Olivia hadn't found me to talk to me yet, so I knew it was time to start making my move. I had to capture her attention. I imagine the conversation to have gone like this when they saw me on the camera. They being Olivia and Elliot of course.

"He's there."

"What?"

"He turned up at the house, he's ransacked it, but that's definitely him."

"You sure Liv?"

"Positive, he knows we're watching the house, he's holding something up to the camera."

"It's a book."

You know it would've been Elliot pointing out the fucking obvious.

"That's not just any book Elliot, that's a little black book."

"His mother's."

"That's what I'm guessing."

Then Elliot would have called me some choice words, then they would've devised a plan to catch me, only, I'd have been long gone by then, and there wouldn't be any trace of me. Like the wind, heard on occasion, the damage could be seen, but the thing itself, invisible.

I hid that book, I wasn't stupid enough to hide it under the floorboards again. I took it to Casa de Buzz, once there I hid it in his safe. He had no real connection to me, no one knew I worked for him, so I figured it was safe there.

I went back to my apartment and read up on all my forensic anthropology, I needed to know everything, I decided that day how I was really going to make a splash in the one – six. It was my mother who gave me the idea. She always said, if she was going to go out, she wanted it to be with a bang. I'm not quite sure the bang she went out with was the bang she meant, but she went out on a high note.

It took me a long time to decide my victim type, they talk about how your kill and choice of victim reflects what type of person you are. See, that to me is old school, and well just plain boring. I wanted the detectives to know it was the same person, I just didn't want them to know it was me. I started taking pictures, I only had a shitty little cell phone but the camera had enough pixels to make out a face. I took pictures of different women, hooked the phone up to my new laptop and made a collage of all the faces and potential victims. I did think to myself that this was all a little bit, slasher movie, but hey, I had a point to make here. These women were just pawns in my game of chess.

It took me a good few days of staring at the photos on my wall to decide that none of these women were right. Only for the reason that if they had a family, a mother; a mother like Olivia, or they were a mother like Olivia, who was I to kill someone's mom? I wasn't. So that's how the nobody kills came into it.

I heard in the pipeline that that's what they used to call me, the nobody killer. Then of course someone made a comment about how everyone was a someone regardless of blah blah blah, and they changed my name to NYC. The New York Choker.

I always left my signature at the scene, it was something only Olivia would know. Well, if she'd have used her brain, she would have gotten it a lot sooner than she did. The only reason I got caught was because I was tired of the endless rape and murder. It's not in my nature see, so in the end I left my final calling card. I left the one thing that would link me to all the murders, the one thing that everyone at the one – six knew I had. I left my mother's black book.

My signature however was a ring, not just any ring, it was an engagement ring. I wanted to remind Olivia of our promise. In total, I killed thirty women, that's thirty rings, and what also happens to be the age Olivia said she'd marry me.

Now of course I don't think Olivia is stupid, in fact, I think she's brilliant; but she didn't use her head. I'm going to put it down to the fact she forgot about me, that just enraged me all the more, but I held on to that promise, and I held damn tight.

Going back to my new found photography, I followed Olivia, I saw her at crime scenes, in the grocery store, in her apartment, everywhere she went, I went. I watched from a distance, and at first, that was okay, but then I started to get this sinking feeling, the looks she gave Elliot, the smiles; she changed and so did he. They were in love. Every time I thought about them together I puked. It was hot, acidic bile. As it burnt up my throat I could feel the distain ripping into my raw flesh. I hated him, I hated them. I hated her. I still loved Olivia, but I hated her too. There was something so wrong about her, yet I couldn't help but love her. Like the most over exposed song, yet you can't help but love it.

I soon plastered my walls in my apartment with Olivia's pictures. She was stunning, I felt like a paparazzi, the photos I took were stunning, she was stunning; fuck me she still is. I learned her rota at work, I got her cell phone number, her work number. I knew everything there was to know about Olivia, all except one thing.

It was June eighth, I'd saved up to get these beautiful, magnificent micro cameras. They worked wonders, the zoom was amazing and when fully zoomed in the picture was still perfect. I gave myself the task of placing them in Olivia's bedroom and shower. See, the only thing I didn't know about Olivia was what she looked like naked. And that was something I _needed_ to know!

I watched Olivia for seven hours straight before she was called into work, I wore a service man jumpsuit, peek baseball cap and had a box in my hand. I climbed down the fire escape and met Olivia at the door, luckily for me, my voice had broken so when I greeted Olivia with a

"Hello ma'am." she didn't recognise my voice. For a cop she wasn't very vigilant, she held the door open for me and let me enter. What she didn't know was, my days on the street with Buzz taught me a lot about pick pocketing. I had a lump of clay in my hand and as I bumped into her I snatched her keys, printed her door key against the clay and apologised as her keys dropped from my hand. She picked them up, gave me one of those amazing smiles and left.

I waited to see her car leave, then left myself. I had a key to make.

I still get to see Olivia, I made her a deal, that I would tell her where the other thirty bodies are, but only if she came to see me twice a year. A visit on her birthday, and a visit on my birthday. You have to understand, as many of you probably think I'm sick, I'm not. I have a reason for everything. Olivia promised me when I was thirty, she would marry me. So that's where the first thirty bodies come into this, but, when she decided to marry Elliot, then carry his child, my heart broke in two. Thirty times two is sixty, that's sixty bodies for a broken promise and a broken heart. Logic.


	5. Surveillance

**A/N: Hi guys – It's been a while since I updated this fic. I hope you all like it. My laptop charger has not been replaced yet, so again, I'm using my girlfriend's laptop. I have tried to get as many fics updated as possible. So here is your update for Infatuation. As always, if you have the time, please review. Thanks.**

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My life seems to be interesting you a great deal. I'm going to pretend you're here because you want to hear my story, not listen to what happened to Olivia.

That's the reason.

Anyway, so like I was telling you before, I killed about sixty people. It wasn't like I grew up and strangled kittens; I'm not your typical killer, I am a killer, with a heart, I have feelings, but I also have a snapping point, and Olivia snapped me.

I suppose you want to know what I did next. So I got the key print to Olivia's apartment, after she'd left, I went back to my shit hole of an apartment, and I made a key. The key fit perfectly when I went back to Olivia's apartment, I slipped the home made key in the door and just like that, it opened. I have to admit, I was and still am to this day, very proud that I made the key and it worked so well. I mean, it's not like you could have done it!

When I went into Olivia's apartment, I set up a couple of wireless cameras and planted them around Olivia's apartment. The main reason I did this, is because I wanted to see Olivia naked, I wanted to see her in every angle in every light, naked. And don't even judge me, because I know you look at her and wonder. Well I'm not just a wonderer, I am a doer and that's exactly what I did. I planted the cameras, set up a couple of sound monitors, I was intrigued as to what she thought about on a daily basis. Did she call her mom and chat? Did she call her best friend and share secrets? Or did she call sex lines? You may think it was out of the blue, but until she fucked Elliot, she was lonely.

I left Olivia's apartment and thanks to my superior knowledge of technology I set it up so I could watch her in my own apartment, rather than having to sit outside in a car, which at that point in time I didn't have. So yeah, you could say I was pretty pleased with myself.

When I got back to the stink fest I called home, I set up the monitors and waited. I waited nine hours before Olivia finally came home from work. I had planned to put cameras in her bedroom and bathroom, but on reflection, I decided to put them in every room. I watched as Olivia took off her coat and put it on the couch. She moved to the kitchen and got herself a beer, this was something she did after a bad day, which in her case was a terrible day, because everyday someone was raped was a bad day. She got a call from Alex, I worked out later, that Alex was ADA Alex Cabot, the woman who put me in this cell. They talked for ten minutes, nothing interesting, in fact, it was mainly work. All boring shit, until my name came up. The conversation as I remember it went like this;

"He's a strange boy." Olivia said.

"What do you mean strange?" Alex asked, Olivia put her on loud speaker and laid on the couch.

"He went back to the house, lifted up the carpet, then took a floorboard up before getting his mom's black book out."

"You think he killed her?"

"I'm not sure. He doesn't seem like the killer type, although, these days, no one does." Olivia sighed softly.

I smiled, Olivia thought I was capable of murder. I was, just not at this point.

"You going to talk to him?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk to him, I got a weird vibe from him." this pissed me off as Olivia said it, although, I could have been seen to be slightly clingy. Can you blame me? I wanted to fuck her brains out.

Anyway, so Alex said some shit about talking to me, Olivia denied the option, then something rather good happened. Olivia hung up the phone. After saying her goodbye's she picked up a pen and started writing. Now, I told you the last time you were here, that the micro cameras I was using could zoom, so obviously, I took advantage of their zooming ability and read what she wrote.

Hold on to your hats, this is no lie.

_'Dear Diary._

_I know my heart belongs to Elliot, but I'd love to have a taste of Alex. When I hear her voice, I literally can't think of anything other than kissing her, having her in my bed, her hands all over me. I think I'm crushing on Alex. It's getting slightly too much for me to handle, I see her at work and undress her with my eyes. I need to get her out my system, or in my bed.'_

Don't look at me like that, of course she wrote more, but that sort of thing, I like to keep to myself. Like I've said before, I don't have a lot in here, none of which is happy, so I keep those memories for myself. And because I'm selfish like that, I won't tell you if she ever did get to bed Alex. I will tell you though, that shortly after she finished writing her diary, I got a _VERY_ nice show. Something I will remember for the rest of my life, although, a woman should never have to please herself.

Olivia took a shower, and I must admit, it was something so beautiful, she was beautiful. I'm pretty sure if she'd have stayed in the shower any longer than she did, I'd have caused myself an injury. She's pretty hot you know, I mean, she's beautiful, great body. Everything I expected her to be and more. She dried off and got into bed, then the phone rang. I was pissed, I was exhausted and ready to watch her drift off into the land of sleep. Shit, I was ready to sleep myself. To my great unknown, it was Elliot. The wanker who screwed everything up. She went downstairs and met him, then brought him back up. I thought they were going to talk, but it turns out they were not. The door wasn't even closed before he had his hands all over her. And hers on him. They went through to the bedroom. The whole time I had to imagine it was me and her. I called up a local prostitute, I watched Olivia moaning and got the hooker to suck me off. I closed my eyes and listened to her moan, pretending it was her on my cock. It worked. Yeah, so I get it, you think I'm a sick bastard, well yeah, I am. But what I want I usually get.

So anyway, going back to Olivia, after she'd finished with Elliot, they fell asleep. I felt sick, I paid the hooker what I owed her. She scrambled away to go and buy her crack; I fell asleep, after a few beers. I needed something to wash the taste of hooker out my mouth. When I woke up, Olivia and Elliot were still in each others arms. Sickening. I took a shower in the hopes by the time I got out, they'd have stopped cuddling. They had.

Olivia was up and dressed, and hotter than ever. She had that just fucked glow. Soon, it would be me that got her to glow like that!

Olivia left for work, Elliot followed thirty minutes later. When they got to work, Olivia and Elliot then had the task of finding me. After all, they wanted the little black book. They never found me, I guess in my head I imagined Olivia to be searching the streets and hunting me down. I was wrong.

I waited a couple of weeks before I sent my plan into action, I went out and I found the perfect nobody to kill. It all went down exactly as planned. I had stolen an engagement ring a few days before, a quick robbery. I assume the woman reported her ring missing, because she was a toff. One of those high class bitches who own everything, appreciate nothing and yet still report a crappy ring going missing.

So I went out at eleven thirty, I walked the streets, my hood up. I knew where the cameras were. I'm not stupid, I knew not to get caught. I spent about three hours observing the prostitutes, who got picked up the most, who made the most money, who had the most friends, that sort of thing. Then I saw a lone girl, she was young, alone and at four in the morning, I knew she was my girl.

"How much for an hour?" I asked.

"Forty." she replied huskily.

I shrugged, "My car is just around the corner." I motioned to the end of the street. She walked with me, obviously I wasn't using my car; just like the ring, I had permanently borrowed a car. She got in the back and so did I. I wasn't going to let a good hooker go to waste so I fucked her, then wasted her.

My weapon of choice was rope, just rope. Nothing special, only I had bought the most well known, well used type of rope in New York. Tonnes of the stuff was sold every day; I was untraceable. She was just about to get out of the car, money in hand when I asked her a questions, I asked her if she was into kinky stuff. She told me at a cost, she is. And then it cost her her life. I pulled the rope out and twisted it around her neck. As she was choking, I raped her. I made sure it was forceful enough to be noticed as rape, not rough sex. Then I found the engagement ring and put it on her left wedding finger. I left the rope tied around her neck then dragged her in a holdall to a bench where I propped her up and left her there.

I made my way home, I knew someone would find the hooker, make that all important call. I'd given her a couple of left hooks to the face, just to add to the effect. It's then I realised, I'm actually pretty heartless. I could kill and feel nothing, I was pretty proud.

The next day I saw Olivia, I was so proud of what I had done, I was one of those onlookers. I saw the blonde haired woman with the rope tied around her neck. Blood dried on her forehead where I'd beaten her. The bruising peeping out from under the rope. Olivia stood by the body talking to a guy in uniform. I could only just make out what she was saying.

"Has the girl got a name?"

"No, no ID. She was found here this morning by a woman walking her dog; she's known to the locals as a hooker, she's pretty new. That's all I can tell you."

Olivia looked so deep in thought, "She has an engagement ring on, that rules out a mugging gone wrong. She's been staged, someone wants us to know she's a prostitute. Someone's sending us a message."

I smiled, Olivia was so smart, even now thinking back it makes me smile, how quickly she connected the dots. Anyway, that's when Elliot showed up.

"What've we got?" he asked the obvious.

Olivia looked at him and smiled, gross! "She's a prostitute, the body's been posed and someone's put a ring on her wedding finger. Other than that, we have nothing."

Elliot seemed to scan the faces in the crowd, I had to hide my grin. He didn't see me, and that's how I liked it. "Is there a tan line?"

"No." Olivia said softly.

"So the killer put a ring on her finger, maybe we're looking at a jilted husband?"

Oh Elliot, ever the smart one. Only I was jilted, because of him! And that just wouldn't do.

You'll have to come back another day, It's my birthday, and I'm expecting a visit from Olivia.


End file.
